


The Devil's Sin

by ThisPeep



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Jim's the devil, Multi, Sherlock Mycroft Sebastian John and Irene are 5 of the Seven Deadly Sins demons, Victor Sally and Mary are angels, everything is dramatic, will probably end up being explicit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3193973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisPeep/pseuds/ThisPeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the beginning of time, Lucifer was kicked out of Hell for the first original sin. But he shed that name, taking on a new one, and started to put together a place he liked to call Hell.<br/>Now Jim Moriarty has everything going for him. What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who's Who?

Demons always thought they were smarter than they actually were.

Of course, Jim encouraged them to suggest ideas that would improve things, but not painfully obvious ones, for his sake. 

Still, had to be nice to the poor dears, or they’d be painfully annoying to deal with for the next eternity or so.

“Don’t you think I might have tried that before, darling?” Jim said, giving a smile to help soften the dismissal. 

Irene giggled cruelly, and Sebastian smirked.

“He’s new. You should give him a bit of leeway.” Sherlock said, pulling everyone’s gaze except John’s-- and the person whose Sherlock had actually wanted, Jim’s.

“John has been here long enough, kitten. He should know better.” Jim replied, keeping his eyes on John.

John and Sherlock both clenched their jaws. 

John wanted to hit something. 

Sherlock was just annoyed Jim hadn’t even glanced at him.

Jim gave a long suffering sigh. He could practically _feel_ Sherlock seething. He always got so touchy about being knocked down a peg in public. Jim would have hoped Sherlock would grow out of it, but he wasn’t Pride for nothing.

Time for some ego soothing.

“Sherlock, stay. Everyone else…” Jim waved a hand.

Demons scattered, a few reluctantly, Sebastian throwing Sherlock a jealous glare. Idiot. He’d never get used to sharing, and it’d just lead to his own demise.

Jim beckoned Sherlock over, and Sherlock knelt in front of Jim’s throne obediently. 

“You should know better than to stand up for someone, pet. Especially if you’re standing against me.”

Sherlock resisted the urge to glare. “I don’t dislike John.”

“Oh? Do you dislike me?”

Sherlock sighed and slumped his shoulders-- already defeated. Going up against Jim never worked out. “Of course not, my king.”

Jim smiled and placed a hand over where his heart would be. “Oh, kitten, I’m flattered.” 

Prick.

Sherlock stood up to leave, ego still stinging a bit, but Jim raised a hand and Sherlock paused.

“No goodbye kiss?”

The amount of times Sherlock would roll his eyes around Jim would be numerous, if Sherlock wasn’t worried about what Jim would do to him if he dared to show contempt.

Sherlock took a step closer and bent over, pressing his mouth to Jim’s and grinning when he felt a nip to his bottom lip, then pulling away when Jim pushed him back playfully.

“Alright, alright. I can tell you’re itching to flee. We’ll talk later, kitten.”

Sherlock gave a short laugh, then inclined his head in a small bow. “Until then, my king.”

“Mm. Have fun with that angel you love.”

Sherlock managed to turn away before his blush showed, leaving quickly. 

_His name is Victor._

 

“Ooh, someone looks flustered. You didn’t disappoint our king, did you?” Irene grinned.

Sherlock scowled. “No. Unlike some, I care about my work.”

“Would you even say you take _pride_ in it?” Irene asked, lips taking on a more teasing blood red curve.

“Depends. Would you say you lust for…”

A few moments of silence slipped by.

“For?”

Sherlock shot irene a glare. “Shut up. Making jokes of our titles isn’t worth the effort.”

“Stung you can’t come up with one for me?”

“No.”

“Just go while you still have your pride, hat man.”

Sherlock tried another glare to phase Irene, but spun away and flounced off with a huff when he was met only with a laugh.

―――→ 

“One moment~!”

Jim’s sing-song voice held that breathy quality that let Mycroft know he definitely didn’t want to go in until he was told to.

When he’d become a demon, Mycroft had known there’d be quite a bit of sinning everywhere, but not necessarily from Lucif-- Jim-- himself. And he had hoped it wouldn’t be this blatantly. 

Mycroft had thought a lot of things that he’d found were wrong when he became a demon, actually.

Mycroft had died back in the early 1700’s, and unsurprisingly ended up in Hell. He’d spent a while, didn’t know how long, getting starved. Then Jim had appeared and offered him a deal.

_”Here’s the thing, Myc. You’re smart.” Jim crouched down, clicking his tongue in disapproval. Mycroft couldn’t speak then, he couldn’t move. His skin looked like paper-- actually, no, paper didn’t have a sickly sheen. And it was stronger._

_“I want to use you, Myc. I just had to fire one of my higher-ups and, well, she needs replacing.”_

_Jim sighed his disappointment. “Now, I’m going to touch you, and you’re going to feel better, and then agree to my deal. Because that’s what friends do. Oh, and you’ll get to see Sherly again.”_

_Mycroft did manage to widen his eyes. Barely. But Sherlock couldn’t be down here. Mycroft had tried so hard to protect him, to keep him good, Mycroft had done so much bad so Sherlock’s wouldn’t have to, he couldn’t be down--_

_Jim laid a hand on Mycroft’s wrist, and Mycroft’s vision cleared. His energy came back._

_His hair darkened and thickened, shedding its grey frailness, and his body swelled almost comically for a moment before it pulled back to normal, the feeling of bugs burrowing into him, and his swirls of a healthy flesh colours wrapping around his current sickly skin, thickening until there was only healthy skin left. The bugs melted away._

_Mycroft sat up._

_He hadn’t been able to do that since a week after arriving._

_His mouth didn’t feel dry. His stomach didn’t hurt. He wasn’t cold._

_He immediately sent Jim a suspicious look, eyes moving over him and taking in all he could. But his brain was foggy from disuse-- nothing he saw meant anything to him._

_“What, I can’t be nice?”_

_“You’re clearly the devil.”_

_Jim shrugged. “So? My sin was no worse than any of yours. Or, your main one.” He closed his fingers around Mycroft and tugged him up while he stood. “Welcome to the team, Gluttony.”_

_“Gluttony?” He’d sent thousands of people to their graves, and he was gluttony?_

_...Sherlock was never going to let him hear the end of it._

Ten minutes and a count of moans Mycroft took care not to mentally add up later, Sebastian walked out with a pathetically dishevelled outfit on, lightly swatting a hand through his hair in an attempt to straighten it out.

He glanced at Mycroft, not even having the decency to look embarrassed, giving a smug grin and a nod. “The king’ll see ya now.” Sebastian drawled, managing to mix in some theatrically fake courtliness. 

How endearing. 

Mycroft’s expression didn’t change, but Sebastian felt the condescension anyway. 

His grin grew and he gave a careless shrug before wandering off. Mycroft’s nose twitched in disgust. He turned to the door and waited for a few moments, long enough to give Jim a bit extra time to get ready, but not long enough that it’d count as keeping him waiting.

Mycroft went in to find Jim lounging on his throne, a leg draped over one of the arms, looking up into the Absence. 

“Ah, Myc, what took you so long?”

“There’s a problem, my king.” 

“You never were one for small talk.” Jim shook his head slightly, still not looking over. “Alright, what’s the issue and why can’t you solve it by yourself?”

“Dissent in the ranks.”

“And why can’t you solve it by yourself?”

“Some of the lower downs don’t think I should be in charge of them.”

“... and _why_ can’t you solve it by yourself?”

Mycroft bristled. Jim could at least have the decency to spare Mycroft a glance. “They don’t think you respect me, so they don’t respect me either.”

Jim shrugged. “Do you think I respect you?”

Trick question? Couldn’t be a right answer. Mycroft decided to go with the truth. “No.”

Jim laughed, curling up into himself while his shoulders shook.

Mycroft stayed quiet.

Jim unraveled, seeming even more languid now as he relaxed against the edge of the back of his throne. “See, I knew you weren’t an idiot.”

No response needed or wanted. 

“Which means you’ll be able to work this out on your own. Come to me again and I’ll fix it and help teach you how to in the process.”

Mycroft lowered himself into a bow, then silently left.

The moment Mycroft turned away, Jim’s gaze was on the Absence again.

―――→ 

Victor didn’t really like going to Hell.

Even if it was to visit, he wasn’t _safe_ there.

Alright, he was allowed to be there due to the treaty, and technically harming him could restart the war but-- they were _demons_. They weren’t exactly known for being trustworthy.

It was said that Lucifer had never broken a deal, but that was rumour, and it didn’t apply to the rest of his… followers.

Didn’t help that most of the time every demon he saw had their wings out, spread and aggressive. Put Victor ill at ease. 

He glanced over to Sally, who met his gaze and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll keep my wings tucked too so you don’t look weird.”

Victor blushed. It was hardly his fault his mating plumage was badly timed.

And like Heaven he’d show those around a bunch of demons. Who knew what’d they’d do.

Something bad, of course. Something… evil. Or something not good, at the least. 

Maybe they’d just ignore it.

Better to not take chances.

“Thanks.” Victor mumbled, taking a deep breath.

Sally squeezed his hand but they made sure to part before opening the doors and walking into the meeting room.

Of course everyone was already there.

Sally and Victor were early, but Lucifer and his crew just _had_ to show them up.

Of course, wings were out.

Victor always got a bit transfixed by Lucifer’s admittedly. Just for a moment. The hints of unseeable colours swirling in otherwise pure black where the light hit… it was pretty. Victor liked pretty things. He was slowly getting more used to it, though, and just let his gaze linger a moment longer than necessary.

Not for the first time, Victor wondered what Lucifer’s mating wings looked like.

Or what Sherlock’s did.

Anyway.

Victor and Sally got a mix of confused and suspicious looks when they came in, wings tucked. They acted like they didn’t notice and sat down.

Time for business. 

“You’ve been taking more souls than usual.” Sally said, and everyone straightened but Lucifer, getting into meeting mode.

Well, most of the demons there were more decoration than anything. Now and then Lucifer asked them something and smiled with the look of a pleased owner when they did their trick of answering how he wanted them to.

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, darling, but there’s more people than usual. Growing population and all that.”

Sally rolled her eyes, and Victor cut in because she was about to say something rude. “Percentage-wise.” He almost winced at how blurted that had been.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, slowly moving his gaze to Victor. Why did he have to be so unnerving all the time? Just look over like a normal being. Seriously.

“Maybe the world’s just getting meaner.” He pointed out lazily.

“Maybe you’re punishing those who don’t really deserve it.” Sally shot back, halfway to a glare already. 

“Oh, should I be more merciful?” Lucifer looked offended, almost crestfallen. 

Victor didn’t believe it, of course, and when Lucifer raised a hand to his heart dramatically no one was surprised. 

Lucifer glanced over to Wrath. “Here that, Johnny boy? I should be more _merciful_. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Sally shifted uncomfortably at the anger coming from Wrath. She and Victor were missing something-- something they’d likely prefer not to know.

“Lucifer, if you don’t mind--” Victor started, only to be cut off.

“Jim.” 

...right.

Victor cleared his throat. “Jim. We’re trying to keep this meeting on task, you can humiliate your demons later. For now…” He raised a hand and made a general gesture which probably didn’t convey what he wanted it to. Hopefully it got the whole ‘trying to have a meeting’ idea across, though.

Victor hadn’t really expected a thankful look from Wrath, but he was a bit surprised when Wrath sent him a glare. He’d just helped! Hadn’t he?

Demons were confusing.

Lucifer (...or, Jim, apparently. Whatever.) gave a shrug. “Tell your _Daddy_ that if He wants souls, He’ll have to step up His game to get them. Maybe send a few more guardian angels, actually put you lot to work.”

Sally clenched her jaw and Victor saw her hands in tight fists.

Envy let out a light laugh.

Victor stood up. “You know I don’t tolerate blasphemy, Lucifer. He’s your Father too, you should respect Him.”

Well, everyone knew that wouldn’t happen. 

“I did, Vic. For a long time. And then He kicked me to the curb for daring to question and disappeared in a puff of smoke.” Jim waved his hand disinterestedly. “Go. Feel free to poke around all you want, but I’m no longer going to deal with your presence.” He turned his gaze to Sally. “ _Either_ of your presences.”

Victor swallowed and straightened his back, standing tall as Sally joined him. They both left the room, undoubtedly to go look around and make sure Jim was breaking any rules.

Once they were out Sherlock stood up, and he sent Jim a glare. “He’s just doing his job, Jim. You don’t have to be such a prick, you know how much they care about God.”

Jim tilted his head, then laughed. “You want to go chase after him, dont you?”

Sherlock didn’t reply.

“Is it to apologize for me or because you want to see his wings?”

There was a long enough pause after that Sherlock realized Jim was demanding a reply. “Both.”

A cruel smile graced Jim’s lips for a flash. “You’ll have to convince me to let you, kitten.”

In front of everyone. Including his brother. Of course.

Sherlock was careful not to so much as glance at Irere while he walked over to Jim, kissing him softly.

But a soft kiss was hardly enough payment, and Jim loved little more than showing off, so there was a hand twisting in Sherlock’s hair and teeth in his lips and a tongue in his mouth, and it was all Sherlock could do to not fall to his knees and give in completely.

Sherlock only realized his hand was gripping Jim’s shirt once Jim broke the kiss and Sherlock’s head cleared a bit. He let go with a blush.

“Tonight, kitten. Don’t want you wandering around claimed by someone else for too long.” Jim murmured, being merciful enough to say it quietly so only Sherlock would hear.

Sherlock smiled. Two things to look forward to. He wasn’t going to get any work done until tomorrow. “Of course, my king.”

 

Victor always hated checking out the placed where demons relaxed in between jobs. It had been his turn this time to do so, he and Sally switched off because she hated it too, so he quickly ducked out after glancing over everything briefly.

And was met with the amused expression of Sher-- Pride. The amused expression of Pride.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit dangerous, going in there at a time like this?”

Victor frowned. “Unless there was a party I was unaware about--”

Sherlock placed a hand over Victor’s mouth and held up a finger in front of his own lips, then pulled Victor into a small hallway he hadn’t noticed before.

The opening closed over into a wall once they were in. 

Ah.

Victor pushed Sherlock’s hand off. “What are you--”

“I didn’t think you’d want everyone to know why you’re hiding your wings.”

Ohhh. That wasn’t good. Victor instantly was overtaken by a deep blush, and he backed up until he hit a wall. “Sherlock…”

“Victor.” Sherlock stepped closer, cupping Victor’s jaw.

The touch felt a bit like sunlight.

“I’m sorry for how my king acted at the meeting. He’s been in a sour mood all day.”

Victor barely heard him, leaning into the touch and feeling a pleasant warmth run over his skin. He hummed in acknowledgement anyway, though.

“Victor?”

Victor blinked his eyes open, attempting to clear the fog. “Sorry, touch…”

“Oh!” Sherlock quickly withdrew his hand. “Better?”

And things sharpened again. But the warmth left. That had really never happened when Sally touched him. Probably something to do with attraction, or... oh never mind. “No.” Victor stated, met with a confused look from Sherlock before Victor tangled a hand in his hair and pulled him into a rough kiss.

That was better. Everywhere Sherlock touched, Victor’s skin sang. So he pressed closer, pulling Sherlock against him, trying to get more. 

He really needed Sherlock closer. Needed Sherlock everywhere.

“I want to see them.” Sherlock managed to say during the onslaught that was Victor kissing him.

And Victor gave no resistance or argument, simply letting his wings come out from his back, shredding his shirt in the process.

That wasn’t really an issue at the moment, though. 

What _was_ an issue though, was that Sherlock stopped moving. He stopped kissing Victor and his hands stopped running over him. That was a large issue. Possibly the worst thing to ever happen in the entirety of Victor’s greatly extended life.

Victor opened his eyes and found Sherlock staring at his wings. Not in a bad way, but it did make Victor suddenly horribly self conscious. His wings didn’t change much, honestly, although most's did.

The only difference between Victor’s mating plumage and his normal wings was that each white feather faded to gold at the tip. Not that impressive.

But Sherlock ran his hand along the feathers and Victor’s knees actually gave out, not expecting the rush of _something_ that overwhelmed him.

Sherlock caught him with an arm around Victor’s waist though, and Victor braced his hand on Sherlock’s chest. There was no horrible, awkward crash to the floor that would have completely ruined the mood, thankfully.

There was, however, a very breathy and desperate moan from Victor and teeth sunk into Sherlock’s neck in a failed attempt to muffle it.

Nor did it muffle the whimper that came after it.

Sherlock carefully removed his hand, and in return Victor slowly removed his teeth from Sherlock’s skin.

(Which might have made it Sherlock’s turn to bite back a moan.)

Victor and Sherlock looked at each other for a long moment, and then Sherlock grinned mischievously. 

“I’m so fucked.” Victor muttered, resting his forehead on Sherlock’s shoulder and wrapping his wings around them, giving another soft moan at the brush of some of his feathers against Sherlock’s back.

“No, but you’re definitely about to be.”


	2. Angels and Demons Beware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a very active day, wrapped up neatly at the end with the threat of war.

“Jim’s expecting me this evening.”

Victor sighed. “Possessive git, isn’t he?”

Sherlock grinned in amusement. “A bit. He’s going to be even worse considering how much you marked me.”

Victor lifted his head of Sherlock’s chest, raising an eyebrow. “It was either bite you to muffle myself or let all of Hell-- and Heaven-- know exactly what we were doing.”

Considering how gossipy Irene and Clara were, at least the whole of Hell probably knew what had been going on already.

“Worse things have happened. You could even earn a fun nickname.”

“Oh?” Victor shifted closer, brushing his lips over Sherlock’s. “Like yours, _kitten_?” He teased.

Sherlock groaned. “Don’t. And thats not even largely used.”

“True.” Victor agreed. “No one in their right mind would call you that.”

Sherlock sighed. “Victor--”

“I know, I know.” Victor held up a hand in surrender. “Lucifer is off limits for me, just like God is off limits for you. Sorry. Let’s go back to nicknames. What do you think mine would be?”

Sherlock probably shouldn’t have let Victor off that easy. Victor always took jabs at Jim, while Sherlock always steered clear of God nicely.

But it was Victor and he was looking very cute, so Sherlock allowed it.

“Sinful angel.”

Victor frowned. “All angels sin.” He pointed out.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I know that. But that’s not the point. And you’re a particularly sinful angel.”

“I am not!” Victor defended. “I’m _normally_ sinful.”

“I think you’re very sinful.” Sherlock leant closer, running his lips up the side of Victor’s neck, nipping at his ear. “Especially your tongue.”

Victor grinned. “My tongue is nowhere near as sinful as yours.”

“Even if that were true-- I’m a demon. I’m meant to be sinful. I’m literally one of the seven sins.”

“It is true.” Victor pressed.

Sherlock’s lips tugged up at the edge. “Prove it.”

Well. That couldn’t be anything other than an invitation. 

Sherlock was sure he had said ‘tongue’ though. Not teeth. Not biting, blood pulling teeth, that was follow by-- ah, there was the tongue-- running over the wounds and swirling and hm, oh, oh there was definitely something sinful going on there.

For quite a while.

Benefit of not having to breathe, there was time for hands to run through thick hair and over skin and really, they probably could have had sex again, but the kissing really was very distracting. They hadn’t kissed like this for a drawn out length of time, and they’d had sex three times, so that wasn’t very high on the priority list. 

Although, then again, Victor would start to get needy again after a little while. Angels’ mating urges went on for a few days.

But Sherlock really did have to go. Jim was expecting him, and Jim didn’t like to be kept waiting. 

Sherlock pulled back with a slight sigh, and Victor immediately pouted.

“How upset will he be if you don’t show up?”

Sherlock offered a small, sympathetic smile. “Very.”

“Ugh.” Victor wrapped himself around Sherlock more tightly, running the tips of a wing along Sherlock’s back. “You’re going to make me ride out one of the worst nights of a cycle alone.”

Well, when he put it like that, it sounded back. “Couldn’t you find someone else to help? At least until Jim lets me go?”

“No one feels as good as you do.” 

Sherlock grinned and turned around, gently taking one of Victor’s feathers between his teeth and slowly pulling off, pleased by the full bodied shudder it got him and the sharp intake of breath.

“Fuck, Sherlock, _please_.”

Sherlock placed his hand on Victor’s wing, following the ways the feathers went so it wouldn’t hurt, hand curving towards himself as Victor curled his wing in around Sherlock.

“Sherlock, Sherlock. Oh, fuck.”

Something pinched Sherlock’s happiness as his mind reminded him of the time. “I really have to go...”

“You are _not_ leaving me this worked up.” Victor growled, head tucked against Sherlock’s chest.

That would be a bit cruel.

“Alright.”

 

Victor collapsed back against the ground, glowing contently. “Alright. Okay. Yeah, okay, I’m good.”

Sherlock smiled, leaning down and stealing a chaste kiss. Victor barely responded, kissing back lightly.

“You alright there, Vic?”

Victor hummed. “Oh yes. Perfect.”

“Can you stand.”

“Not sure.”

Sherlock repressed a smile. “Would you like to try?”

“Not really.” 

Sherlock shook his head, standing up and pulling up on Victor’s arm, coaxing him up.

Victor reluctantly stood, displeased at being made to.

“You have to go, Victor.” Sherlock withdrew his support, relieved to see Victor left standing. If not a bit put out.

“I know. I was hoping to bask for a few moments.”

“You wanted to bask in a post cycle-sex afterglow, surrounded by almost nothing but demons? Really?”

Victor clicked his tongue in annoyance. “It sounds so stupid when you say it.”

“That might because it is stupid, Victor.”

“ _Fine_.” Victor help up his hands in surrender. “I’m going to go find Sally.”

He turned to leave, just about through the wall when Sherlock interrupted him.

“You should probably tuck your wings away, Victor.”

Victor blushed. “Just testing you.” He mumbled, sliding his wings into his back.

“And put on some clothes.”

Oh. 

Victor looked down, carefully taking a few steps back and his blush deepening. “Those I may have forgotten.”

Sherlock held back an amused look. “Just maybe.” He slipped on his pants and nodded towards Victor’s clothes. “Then you can go.”

Victor pressed his lips together and quickly got dressed. His glow was gone. Which was tragic, because it had looked rather pretty.

Once they were dressed Sherlock slipped an arm around Victor and pulled him closer, running a hand down Victor’s jaw.

Victor melted.

“Tomorrow.” Sherlock breathed, and Victor nodded quickly.

“If you’re not there I am going to find a way to kill you and think strongly about doing it.”

“No you won’t.” Sherlock smirked. “You’ll be too busy writhing on my bed.”

Victor pulled away and hit Sherlock’s shoulder. “I can multitask, Sherlock.”

And with that he walked off.

Sherlock finally allowed himself a fond smile.

―――→ 

“I’m just saying, he could stand to not pick favorites.” John defended, prickling in annoyance.

“You’re just saying that because you weren’t picked as one of Daddy’s special little demons.” Irene teased. “Poor dear.” She faked a pout.

“Duh! You should be too!” John shot back. “It isn’t _fair!_ ”

Clara rolled her eyes. “You’re not fooling anyone, lover-boy.” She declared.

Sally quickly glanced over in surprise. The favorites thing sounded like a good reason to be annoyed. God certainly didn’t pick favorites.

Honestly, the Seven were so dramatic. They were like a bloody sitcom.

John was turning red though. “Whatever you’re thinking about saying, Clara--”

“John and Sherly, sitting in a tree. K-i-s-s-i-n-g.” She sang, then held a hand over her mouth for a moment. “Except not. Cause Sherlock is off getting shagged by Jim. How tragic.”

John ground his teeth. 

Sally pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh.

Sebastian and Irene weren’t as courteous.

Clara practically preened. “Oh.” She almost looked surprised, now. “Shagging. That reminds me. Irene, darling, I was thinking of getting hammered later. Care to join me?”

Sally almost choked.

“Of course, doll.” Irene simpered.

“Can I join?” Sebastian piped up, earning himself one eye roll and one annoyed glare.

“Do you understand the concept of lesbians?” Irene asked.

Sebastian shrugged. “As a man who is so completely and entirely straight that rulers would be jealous, I’m sure lesbians such as you two are simply confused. I’m offering my assistance to help you ladies get back on the hetero track.”

Clara threw a pencil at him.

―――→ 

Sherlock had his legs wrapped around Jim’s waist, nails grown out into claws and digging into the wall he was pressed up against. His wings were flattened against it, spread and perfectly displayed, each vibrantly red feather quivering.

Sherlock moved his hand, pulling it out of where it was lodged in the wall and instead his nails ran down Jim’s back, red dripping down the trail left.

Red was everywhere, actually.

Covering Sherlock’s neck, smeared over his and Jim’s stomachs, pooling on the floor and running down along their fingers.

Most importantly, to Sherlock, it was spread over Jim’s lips and tongue.

Which meant that Sherlock could taste it, because of how deeply Jim was kissing him.

And it tasted _heavenly_.

Although Sherlock couldn’t imagine anything feeling better than Jim being possessive. Not even Heaven with all its pretty promises could pull Sherlock away from Jim.

Right now, Heaven sounded like Hell, and Jim felt like Heaven.

Sherlock tensed, and Jim’s teeth moved from Sherlock’s lips to his chest, biting down sharply and pushing Sherlock over the edge.

For the third fucking time.

Sherlock cried Jim’s name, long nails sinking into Jim’s flesh completely.

Jim didn’t let up.

“Please, please, _please_.”

Jim’s tongue ran over Sherlock’s newest wound before biting down over it again. Then he stopped moving, tensing while he swallowed the mouthful of blood.

Sherlock let out a sound that was caught between a sigh of relief and a whimper for more.

They both slid to the floor.

“Fuck, Jim.”

Jim chuckled. “Mm, kitten, you look so cute when you get all sensitive.” He ducked down to start lapping up the blood off Sherlock’s skin.

Sherlock couldn’t help a shiver, but could still manage a retort. “You look cute when you get all snuggly after sex.”

Jim laughed. “Oh kitten, I’d thought you’d be too wiped out for snark.”

“Never.”

_Never?_

_Now that sounds like a challenge._

Jim gave a sharp grin.

Sherlock’s eyes widened. “You cannot be--”

Jim slipped two fingers into Sherlock, starting to pump.

Sherlock did whimper this time, toes curling in, wings flying out to hit the wall, displayed again. He wriggled his hips-- every centimeter of his nerves were screaming that it was too much, that it hurt with how stimulated they were.

Sherlock didn’t say anything. He didn’t care what his brain was telling him to do. It hurt so good.

―――→ 

“He’s awake.”

Sherlock shot Clara a glare.

“Really?” Sebastian glanced up and frowned. “I thought for sure he’d be out for longer.”

“Nope.” Clara beamed. “I win, darling.”

Irene walked in, a dressing gown draped over her skin, wings dragging along the floor sleepily. “Someone bet against Clara? Who’s the idiot?”

Irene caught sight of Sebastian’s annoyed look.

“Ah. Of course.”

She moved her gaze to Sherlock, eyebrows raising in surprise. “Sherlock you minx.”

Sherlock grit his teeth. 

“Goodness, I could feed off you and be full for the week. And this is _after_ you slept?”

“He caught the angel in heat.” Sebastian supplied.

Sherlock’s jaw clenched more. “Will you stop talking as though I’m not here?” He hissed.

Clara ignored him, and Irene shot him an impressed look. Not what he had been hoping for.

“And!” Clara called attention to herself again. “Was moaning in the throne room for hours after. Hours.”

“No wonder he smells so appetizing, then.” Irene sent Sherlock a wink, half draping herself over the back of Clara’s chair.

Sherlock gave an exasperated sigh. “For once, can’t you all be talking about work when I walk in?”

“Not likely, honey.” Clara slipped out from Irene’s lazy hold and stood up, walking over to the door. “This is one of the only two places we can’t get spied on, you think we’d use it for work?” She scoffed.

Well then.

“She has a point, Lock.” Irene commented as Clara left. “Not all of us can swan in and out of the throne room all the time. This is the only private place we have.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Heart breaking. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go and do my job.”

He left, and Sebastian and Irene exchanged shrugs.

―――→ 

Jim had decided to allow Sherlock the time off, _Just because you look so desperately darling right now, kitten_ , so Sherlock and Victor were tangled up together in Sherlock’s bed, enjoying a rare break to catch their breaths.

“You know, I’ve heard the archangels are getting twitchy.” Victor murmured, regaining Sherlock’s attention.

“What about?”

“The souls thing.”

Of course. “My king isn’t going to back off.”

Victor nodded. “I know.”

“That might mean war, Vic.”

“I know.”

“We’d both be fighting if that happened.”

“I _know_ , Sherlock.”

Sherlock fell silent. 

There’d been a truce since before he was made a demon, but he’d heard stories of the war. It sounded ruthless. More than a bloodbath. Demons and angels were meant to be immortal-- but there’d been thousands of casualties on either side.

Envy, Greed, and Sloth had fought. They were loath to talk about it. Apparently Clara’s best friend had been killed, and so had Sebastian’s brother.

Sloth had lost her wings.

Sherlock was relatively sure Jim kept Sloth around because of pity, although Jim would never admit it. But Sherlock had never even seen Sloth-- it was said she spent all her time in pain, grieving. 

Sherlock spared a thought to what losing his wings would be like and felt sick.

He thought about what fighting Victor would be like and felt sicker.

Thankfully, Victor chose that moment to scoot closer, resting his head on Sherlock’s chest. “You could try talking to Lucifer.”

Sherlock sighed, and Victor could feel melancholy in it. “You know I can’t do that, Victor.” Jim would stop Sherlock allowing to see Victor at all, if he thought Victor was changing Sherlock’s loyalties.

“I’d rather have to see you in secret than have another war, Sherlock.”

“We wouldn’t be able to meet at all. There only two places in Hell Jim can’t see into, and you can’t teleport into either of them.”

“You could come to Heaven.”

“And be killed instantly by the first archangel to sense my presence?”

Victor turned his face to press against Sherlock’s chest, hiding in frustration for a moment while he thought.

He turned his head to the side again, looking up at Sherlock. “We’ll enjoy this, then. As much as we can.”

 _No. I don’t care if there’s a war, I don’t care if I die, if it means I get to be with you longer._ Sherlock nodded. “Alright.”

Victor smiled softly and leaned up to kiss him, and Sherlock kissed him back.

Now he just had to think of a reason why Jim would allow them to keep seeing each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much almost-explicit moments


	3. Losing Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War becomes more likely at the appearance of Jim's old friend.
> 
> WARNING: there are some romantic undertones to Jim and Richard. They're only as related as, say, Sally and Victor are, but if you really dislike the two together I suggest skipping this chapter. (For clarification, angels don't have mothers. They were brought into being supernaturally, not made through reproduction. The only reason they can have sex is to experience the temptation of sin. Technically, they considering all other angels half-siblings because God is the "father" of them all, but it's a symbolic title. None of the angels are actually related in any way.)

“I need someone to corrupt.”

Sebastian glanced over to Jim, raising an eyebrow. “Well, you have plenty to choose from.”

Jim hummed. “Yes. But I’ve already corrupted all the fun ones.”

Sebastian paused. “Boss, you…”

“Hm?”

“How early do you usually start corrupting people?”

Jim grinned, rolling his head to the side and sending Sebastian a look he didn’t particularly fancy. “Darling, I’ve got nothing but time on my hands. How early do you think?”

“You’ve been toying with me since I was a kid, then, huh?”

“Mm, not my usual definition of toying.”

Great. One of the few times Sebastian was annoyed that he’d been right about something to do with the Boss.

Bloody hell. 

“You’re a creepy bastard, Boss.”

Jim shrugged. “I know. You like it though.” He sent Sebastian a wink, sliding a hand into his hair and starting to stroke it absentmindedly. 

Sebastian gave a long suffering sigh, relaxing against the side of Jim’s throne. He hadn’t been sitting in front of it like a dog for the entire day, of course, but now and then Jim wanted to feel powerful and grand and really, who was Sebastian to deny him that?

Barely a few moments after Sebastian shut his eyes, the hand stilled in his hair. He opened them to find a harsh light, slowly dimming, outside the door.

Archangel. Sebastian knew it instantly, even if the dramatic glowing hadn’t been a huge giveaway. He felt it. The wrongness of such a being in Hell.

Sebastian wanted to get rid of it. He could go head to head with an archangel, fifty-fifty shot at winning.

But Jim’s hand was still in his hair so he wasn’t allowed to stand up.

The door opened.

Sebastian had expected both of them to swing open dramatically, revealing a mighty being standing a few feet away-- but no. 

One of the doors was pushed open slowly, and Sebastian blinked a few times after Jim stepped through.

No, wait, Jim had mentioned something about having an old brother who looked just like him. And besides, this man’s hair was too long and his eyes were different.

Plus, angel.

Sebastian felt weight on his head and tensed before realizing Jim was using him like a bloody cane, simply something to make him standing up easier.

Jim’s hand left Sebastian’s hair and he walked a few feet forward, then stilled.

Everything felt very tense.

Jim walked up and wrapped up the man in a hug.

Alright then.

The other man visibly relaxed and hugged Jim back, tucking his head against Jim’s shoulder.

“Mike.” Jim breathed, and the other man nodded.

Mike. _Michael?!_ God’s favourite? 

“Richard now, Luci.”

“Jim.”

“Right.”

Sebastian was still looking on in shock when Jim cleared his throat and they both stepped back, setting their shoulders and raising their heads back almost in sync.

So much for the snuggly vibe they had going a few seconds ago.

Michael-- Richard-- turned his gaze to Sebastian and cleared his throat.

Sebastian was about to ask what he wanted when Jim turned around to face him as well, and spoke instead.

“Ah, yes, of course.” He sent Richard a glance. “I’m just so used to him being here, it didn’t occur to me.”

Jim returned his focus to Sebastian and snapped his fingers at him before pointing to the door. Great. Sent out like a bloody dog.

Still, Sebastian got up without a fuss and left, closing the door behind him.

 

Richard cleared his throat. “So.” 

Jim smiled politely. “Richard, not to be rude, but I really never wanted to see you again.”

Richard smiled back, even giving a weak laugh but looking at Jim with far more affection than he was comfortable with. “Yeah, me neither.”

And even though that’s what Jim had said, and he knew the reasons behind it, that still stung a bit. But Jim didn’t flinch, and the fake laugh he gave sounded much more full and amused than the one Richard had attempted.

“Come.” Jim turned and waved a hand through the air, his throne extending as he moved it until it resembled a very decadent couch.

Jim sat down on one side, leaving room for Richard on the other. Richard sat down reluctantly next to him. 

It was always harder dealing with Jim when they were closer together. Jim could read him that much more easily, and Richard always felt guiltier for saying something harsh.

Jim brushed some imaginary dust from his trousers, settling down. “I should kill you, you know.”

Richard bit his lip. “Yeah, I know.”

There was a pause where they contemplated each other, Jim staring at Richard before he sighed and rolled his eyes. “So already near the endgame, then. How time flies.”

“Not if you stop.” Richard pointed out, and Jim sent him a tired look.

“You know I won’t do that, Rich.”

“But you _can_.” 

Jim scoffed. “Yes, just like you can let me be, in theory.” 

...Right. Richard’s eyes flicked to the floor. “You know this is different, Jim. It’s not my choice.”

“No?” Jim’s voice had that edge in it that always make Richard uncomfortable. His _I’m about to be mean_ voice. “Whose choice is it, Rich?”

This again. “God’s.”

“Oh, God’s.” Jim nodded sympathetically. “I forgot, of course, it’s clearly His. Because He’s perfect. He’d know best.”

Richard could either confront Jim or just let it happen.

He really hated confronting Jim.

“Exactly.”

“So…” Jim drew out the word, tongue in his cheek as he looked disinterestedly at his nails. “When did God tell you this, then? That you should threaten war?”

Cue the exasperated sigh from Richard. “You know He doesn’t--”

“Talk to you anymore?” 

Richard flinched.

Jim cut his gaze to Richard. “Talk to anyone, anymore. Not since He kicked me out for daring to question.”

Richard stayed silent. It wouldn’t help to annoy Jim more.

“Makes you wonder, though, doesn’t it? How could you have been told His will when He doesn't talk? You were _always_ God’s favorite. If he _was_ talking to anyone, it’d be you, wouldn’t it?”

Richard knew that. Of course he knew that.

But he absolutely, obstinately refused to believe it.

God was just mad at Richard. He was sinning too much. Mourning the loss of Jim too much. He wasn’t thinking only loyal thoughts. He was too angry. Too upset. The list went on. It really wasn’t God’s fault, it was Richard’s. It had to be. God was still out there.

“Yeah.” Richard’s voice was barely a whisper.

Jim’s eyes immediately softened and he shifted nearer, wrapping an arm around Richard and pulling him close. Richard relaxed into it as he’d done uncountable times before, curling up and resting on Jim’s chest.

“I’ve missed you, bunny.”

Richard let his eyes fall shut and turned his head, burying it in Jim’s chest. He wanted to say something, but everything that he thought of wasn’t appropriate. 

I’ve missed you too. Expected. Stupid.

I want you to come home. Even more stupid, and completely impossible, probably would just serve to make Jim annoyed.

I love you. Horribly cliché. Jim didn’t like saying it, but he felt like he had to say it back when Richard did, so Richard tried to avoid it. He didn’t need Jim to say it, anyway, it was always painfully clear.

I have to go. Definitely what Richard should be saying. Because he really, really shouldn’t stay for too long. But Jim had always proven to be addicting. He was so prickly to everyone else.

Was there any feeling better than being loved by someone who hated everyone?

Richard severely doubted it-- except being loved by God, of course.

“I…”

Richard trailed off the moment he begun, and Jim didn’t press, so he stayed silent, bringing up a hand to rest on Jim’s chest while Richard turned his head to get more comfortable. 

A hand started to stroke though Richard’s hair absentmindedly, and Richard would later internally swear that was not what had lulled him to sleep.

―――→ 

Sebastian walked into the room and practically fell into one of the chairs.

Everyone looked on edge.

There was, after all, a definite holy presence in their domain. And not the little off flutterings of angels like Sally or Victor.

But a completely wrong, distracting glare of disturbance. 

They did, however, all look at Sebastian expectantly. He was the last one to see Jim, and if there was a powerful angel here, still alive, and not moving it was because Jim allowed it.

Sebastian looked nervous for a moment before cracking a crooked grin. “Y’all know Michael?”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Clara, heard clearly over the mutterings of expletives. 

Irene sat down in a nearby chair. “That is not good.”

Mycroft nodded. “War’s in the air.”

Silently, in the corner of the room, Sherlock had been frozen and pale since Sebastian had first spoke.

What in sin’s name was he going to do now?

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to vexingholmes being my beta-er (u should all follower her tumblr btw)
> 
> what even is plot though i mean really


End file.
